Undertow
by Mackenzie. P. Ghost
Summary: The crew of the Enterprise return from shore leave only to find their captain is missing. Featuring hurt!badass!Kirk & righteously!protective!crew.
1. Chapter 1

Prologue

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><p>The crew of the Enterprise felt their shoulders straighten as they stepped back onto her decks. A month of shore leave had seemed like a reward too good to be true when their captain had cheerfully made his announcement, but the weeks back on Earth had left them all itching to get back to work. For people like them, the black was where they truly belonged.<p>

McCoy had been the first back after spending one week in Georgia, and three more at the bottom of a bottle. Sickbay had undergone a new refit in drydock and the captain had signed off on all McCoy's requests. He had been eager to get back and start complaining that nothing was where he had left it.

"He spoils you." Christine Chapel arrived in Sickbay the morning before her first duty shift. A month in the sunshine had done her a world of good, and the ghostly pallor most starship personnel adopted had deepened into a more healthy glow.

McCoy held up the new state of the art dermaregenerator for inspection and was pleased to note that the chunkiness of the previous model had been addressed. "Hardly. He's in here more than the rest of the crew combined. It was purely self-serving." He set the device down and moved on to coo over the new tricorder Jim had ordered him.

"Right." Chapel rolled her eyes at the childish look on her superior's face. "Because Captain Kirk loves hypos so much he felt the need to order a whole new supply of them."

McCoy flashed her a rare and guilty grin. They both knew the captain would happily ban all hypos from the Enterprise if given half the chance. While he was incredibly generous in seeing his crew properly equipped – and probably bypassing the proper channels to do so – it was downright suspicious for Kirk to arm McCoy with more tools he would eventually be tortured with.

"What did he do?" She asked, suspiciously casting an eye around the room and noting with relief that all the biobeds were empty.

"Nothing, actually. For once." McCoy moved on to the hypos and ran his fingers almost reverently over each one. No doubt he was imagining all the ways he could avenge his ever deteriorating nerves. "In true Jim fashion, he's feeling guilty for something he _didn't_ do."

As apposed to brazenly refusing to acknowledge all the insanely reckless things he _did_ do.

When Chapel pushed for an explanation, she was half surprised McCoy didn't either growl or send her to work on something. He was fiercely protective of his friendship with the captain, but all the new medical toys had clearly put him in an unprecedented good mood. "Normally when we have leave on Earth, he comes to Georgia with me."

"But he didn't this time?"

McCoy shook his head. "No." He didn't offer an explanation, and Chapel didn't push. "I offered to stay on base, but I hadn't seen Jo in eight months."

"And how is she?" Little Joanna McCoy was the light of her daddy's life.

"Growing like a beanpole." McCoy shook his head in amazement. Clearly his medical expertise suffered something of a setback when presented with his own child, and the idea of her growing up seemed to have left him stunned. "Of course I got it in the neck for not bring Uncle Jimmy with me." McCoy rolled his eyes fondly. "I swear he is better with her than I am."

Chapel might have expected to hear resentment in the doctor's voice if he had been speaking of anyone but the captain.

"That is because he lets her dress him up and play tea-party."

And as amusing as the whole idea of the heroic Captain Kirk being dressed by a six year old girl was, Chapel didn't doubt for a second that Jim wouldn't pull it off with the same effortless humor he did everything else. Some men could carry off a dress.

Kirk was not surprisingly one of them.

Doctor McCoy on the other hand…

Chapel had seen the evidence and been met with nothing more than an unembarrassed shrug from Jim. If only enemies of the Federation knew that the quickest way through Kirk's defenses was the hopeful smile of an innocent child.

"Speaking of immature Starfleet officers…" McCoy selected his new tricorder and brandished it like a sword. "I believe it is time to see what kind of trouble Jim's crew managed to get themselves into this time."

"You never know, sir. They might surprise you." Chapel straightened and flashed McCoy one last smile as a civilian.

"Oh I doubt it." McCoy shook his head. "Same ship, different day, remember?"

That, Chapel concluded, was a fair point.

* * *

><p>"Stop messing with that!"<p>

Sulu and Chekov had quickly found that a month of rest and relaxation had done nothing to soften the blow that Nyota Uhura could deliver with one delicately arched eyebrow.

After drunkenly agreeing to follow Chekov back to his native Russia while on leave, Sulu found that he could only remember a handful of days, while the rest were all one vodka induced blur. Whatever trouble they had managed to find had only served to leave Chekov eyeing him with awe, and no small amount of amusement. Sulu had also landed himself with a spectacular rug burn all down one cheek, and it was to that Uhura felt the need to scold him.

"It itches." He frowned. "What happened again?"

Chekov grinned down at his station and didn't answer. While he wasn't old enough to drink while in the States, back in Russia, he proved that he was more than capable of holding his own in a drinking tournament, and could probably give McCoy a run for his money. Sneaky Russian wiz kids.

Seeking to find a less embarrassing subject, Sulu turned to Spock who was seated at his own station. "Did you have an enjoyable leave, Commander?"

"Most pleasant, thank you Mr Sulu." Spock inclined his head. He looked exactly the same as he had before they had all stepped off the _Enterprise_. "Perhaps you might seek medical attention for your injury?"

The bridge door opened at that minute, and Doctor McCoy marched in. "I knew it." He said, eyes narrowing on Sulu with inhuman perceptiveness. "What did you do this time?"

The tricorder was out and beeping before Sulu could so much as protest, let alone think of an excuse.

"We'll you'll live." McCoy continued moments later when the tricorder reported only surface abrasions. "Come down to sickbay after your shift and I'll give you a shot against any infection."

Sulu thought about protesting but quickly decided against it. He had witnessed enough encounters between their CMO and the captain to know that some battles were beyond his capabilities to partake in.

Speaking of…

"Where is he hiding then?" McCoy asked, looking around the bridge for the captain. "You're only going to make this worse for yourself, Jim."

It was clear Kirk wasn't on the bridge, but knowing the captain was not above hiding behind his chair when McCoy was after him, it made sense that the doctor would check.

"Captain Kirk has yet to report for duty." Spock informed them, his eyebrows pulled together in consternation. "I had considered asking you if you were aware of his whereabouts, but clearly you are as ill-informed as the rest of us."

"If that means that I don't have a clue where the hell he is, then sure. I'm 'ill-informed'." McCoy rolled his eyes. "No one has seen him?"

That moment, the door to the bridge slid open, and they all waited in expectation for Kirk's enthusiastic smile and infectious cheer. Instead Spock stood smoothly. "Admiral on the Bridge."

Sulu spun around in his chair at breakneck speed, though not as fast as Chekov, who very nearly managed to fall out of his all together.

Spock, who stood beside the Captain's Chair, moved around it in order to greet Admiral Pike. Sulu allowed himself to breathe again. Of all the Admirals, Pike was the most well-known and well-loved entity. As his former captain, Sulu had been willing to die for him, and nothing had changed in the last year.

"Admiral Pike." Spock inclined his head in greeting. "This is a pleasant occurrence. Forgive me however, but the captain is not yet aboard to greet you."

"Commander." Pike returned the acknowledgement, but the niceties ended there.

Chekov shot Sulu a look that was as much concerned as it was curious, and Sulu knew he wasn't alone in picking up on the tension that suddenly settled on the room.

Pike moved to the center of the Bridge and eyed each of them carefully. "I am fully aware that Kirk is not with us, however we do not have the time to spare. At twenty three hundred hours last night, Federation vessel _The Maria_ sent out a distress signal while en route to Station 14. When Starfleet arrived to provide aid, we found no trace of _The Maria_ and attempts to locate her have so far failed. At eleven hundred hours today, we received word from an unknown enemy that _The Maria_ and her crew are being held to ransom."

"Has there been an attempt to open negotiations?" Spock asked. Sulu was already calculating the distance it would take to reach to Station 14, and more importantly, how far the enemy could have travelled from it in twelve hours. There were just too many variables.

"That is where things start to get tricky." Pike admitted. "While we have yet to identify those responsible, they seem to know a great deal about us. They demanded Starfleet send Captain Kirk as their representative."

A collective flinch ran through the command crew.

The only one who seemed unaffected by the news was Spock, and Sulu knew just how much that placid Vulcan façade could mask. "There is a reason then that you are briefing us before the captain's arrival."

It wasn't a question. There was something more going on here than Pike seemed to want to admit.

With the eyes of the entire bridge crew on him, Pike didn't so much as blink in discomfort. He leveled Spock with a stern, unflinching gaze.

"We have reason to believe Kirk was aboard _The Maria_."

Well shit.

"Why?" The question was without social graces or etiquette, so it could only have come from Doctor McCoy.

Pike turned to look at him. "That information is classified."

"Classified my ass, sir!" McCoy bristled then quickly deflated, resignation hot on the heels of anger. "Do they know he is on board?"

"_We_ don't even know for certain." Pike explained calmly.

"But you're pretty sure."

"You're almost as bad as he is." The seriousness of Pike's expression broke to something more amused for a brief second. "Yes. We are fairly convinced. So far we can only assume that the enemy is unaware of this information."

Something which would not last long when faced with the captain's inability to avoid irritating those who wanted his blood, and the sense of responsibility he would have for the others on _The Maria_.

Pike seemed to be on the same page. "Time is of the essence. While some of the Admiralty favored sending another vessel to secure the rescue of _The Maria_, the majority of us believe that continuing the rouse of cooperation for as long as possible might give Kirk the time he needs on the inside. And when that happens, you know him better than anyone else."

"I do not believe anyone is capable to truly predicting Captain Kirk's actions, Admiral, which is what makes him so effective. However I concede that if any are able to do so, they are aboard this vessel."

Spock's faith in them all was buoying, but unneeded. Sulu had already turned to his station and began plotting a course for Station 14. Beside him, Chekov was scrolling through streams of data, trying to find any hint of where _The Maria_ might be being held. Uhura was plugged into the transmitter and McCoy was stabbing at his tricorder viciously.

The incomplete incident logs for the last twelve hours fed through into the computer, and Sulu adjusted his navigation to work with the data.

"Mr Sulu." Spock stepped up and gave the orders.

"Good luck ladies and gentleman." Pike said before stepping off the bridge.

Jim Kirk loved his crew and protected them with every inch of his being. That dedication was returned one hundred fold.

The Enterprise was coming for her captain.

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

Sorry for the delay in posting. I promise you won't have to wait so long for the next part. Also, huge thanks to everyone who has reviewed/added the story to their favourites!

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><p>There's only so many times a man could be punched in the face before things start to get a little blurry. Granted, Jim's better at taking a blow than most men his size, but human endurance tended to fizzle out after round number four.<p>

He was still standing, though. Sort of. Hanging between the arms of two guys who would give his muscle bound head of security operations a run for his money, and occasionally spitting blood in the general direction of the asshole using his face for stress relief.

And for once, he'd not done anything even remotely warranting the beating. Usually the first to admit that he was the cause of a good ninety percent of all bar brawls he'd participated in, Jim was also a firm believer in not taking responsibility for the shit that other people started.

This time the ball was firmly in someone else's court, and as usual, he just got dragged along for the ride.

It was the story of his life, really. Someone starts something, he finishes it.

Hell, that was the reason he was on _The Maria_ in the first place, instead of at home, on Earth, in a bar with his crew bonding over semi-legal spirits.

Some Admiralty clusterfuck required him to be sent out to the ass end of the Universe, on a recon mission so top secret they hadn't even given him time to collect a change of clothes, let alone send word to Bones, who was no doubt going to kill Jim for making him do the trip to Georgia without company.

Once onboard the shuttle, he'd had nearly a week of sailing through the black to do nothing but fill out paperwork, bribe the admiralty into giving him some shiny new toys for his crew to play with, and try explain to Bones through very long winded messages that he wasn't fleeing the planet in an attempt to avoid seeing the ex-Mrs McCoy, no matter how much Jocelyn scared the shit out of him.

It had taken six days to straighten up the mess that was Intui II, and Jim had been ready to crawl into a bunk and not surface again until they were dirtside. A full debriefing would be held back on Earth, and only then would Jim be able to relay the classified information that he had acquired on Intui II. Some things even Starfleet didn't trust to technology. He had however gotten a pat on the back via video feed, along with the promise that everything he had requested for the Enterprise's refits had been cleared and installed, ready for his inspection as soon as he docked.

Once upon a time, they would have traded his skills in the field for the promise of a day where he didn't have to sit behind a desk and work on assignments. Now at least he could get something useful out of them.

_The Maria_ had arranged to pick him up from port and transport him back to earth. As a diplomatic vessel, it had made for a comfortable, if boring journey.

At least until they'd been overrun by terrorists.

Jim had been asleep in guest quarters when they boarded, and without the alerts he was use to as captain, it wasn't until they were storming into his room that he even knew anything had happened.

Acting purely on instinct, Jim had killed the first one of them who had tried to drag him from bed at the end of a phaser.

In hindsight, that might have been why the others developed such an interest in punching him in the face.

Bones was going to have a field day after this one.

"You're not-" Kirk spat out a mouthful of blood and grinned painfully up into the face of the man closest "-very good at this, are you?"

As a general rule of thumb, punching people repeatedly in the face was neither endearing, nor conclusive to an effective interrogation strategy. Since they had yet to ask any questions, Jim could only conclude that their interest in him began and ended with how many times they could hit him before he passed out.

He was a little affronted. People usually had some legitimate reason for wanting to beat on him, even if it was a flimsy one.

Until he knew what they wanted, though, it was better they got punch happy with his face than start asking questions he had no intention of answering.

Spock could no doubt list to the exact digit the number of people Jim had invoked a violent reaction from, counting himself among that figure, not to mention Bones, his head of Security, half the nurses and sooner or later, Uhura. Apparently it was part of a First Officer's duties to know these things.

Jim still wasn't convinced Vulcan's couldn't lie.

It finally seemed like they were done with him, and Jim hung limply between the two holding his arms. His head felt like it had been stuffed with clouds, and his legs weren't all that keen on following the instructions he kept sending them. He was dragged like a ragdoll through corridors strewn with blood and terrified looking passengers, his ire raising with every face he saw through swollen eyelids.

This wasn't a military vessel, for christsake! These people were unarmed, and a large majority of them were civilians.

"Another, sir." The one on Jim's left shook him as they stepped onto the bridge. Jim felt his stomach roll at the sight of _The Maria's _captain, still alive, but barely.

He was sat in the command chair, his body arranged in a sick parody of readiness while his blood slowly pooled around his feet.

The man they addressed as their leader was humanoid, and reminded Jim a lot of his PT instructor back at the Academy. Tall, fit, and grey at the temples. He didn't so much as look at Jim before waving him away as an insignificant distraction.

Oh, he was going to regret that one.

As they started to drag him away, Jim let himself be pulled along. As much as it killed him to do so, he could hold his tongue when he needed to. Right then, he was in possession of highly classified information; information that needed to be passed on to the relevant authorities without being compromised. Neither would happen if he got himself killed by terrorists who might not even be there for him at all.

This, he figured, fell into one of the times when leading a life of adventure, excitement, and military espionage really, really sucked.

* * *

><p>"So, what do we know about the captain's whereabouts?" With the departure of Pike and a quick jump to warp, the Enterprise was making steady progress towards <em>The Maria's<em> last known co-ordinates, leaving her crew to turn their thoughts once more to their wayward captain.

As one, they all turned to look at their Chief Medical Officer. McCoy never seemed a particularly cheerful kind of man, but his expression over the last twenty minutes had been nothing shirt of thunderous. "How the fuck should I know? It's not like I installed a tracking device on the kid."

They could all tell that McCoy was considering doing such a thing, though, and right then the idea had merits.

"Does the captain not usually spend his shore leave in your company?"

"I told you this already." McCoy huffed, scowling at Spock in his usual manner. "He wasn't _on_ shore leave. The Brass called him into some top secret for your eyes only crap and shipped him off to fuck knows where. Even if he could tell me, he wouldn't."

Spock in particular looked troubled. "Sending the Captain of the fleet's flagship on any kind of mission without his crew would be entirely illogical."

"And yet they continue to do it." McCoy snarled. "Despite his physician's suggestions otherwise, I might add!"

"Why would they do that?" From his position at the helm, Sulu shook his head, clearly confused as to the motivation behind such a move.

"I think that probably falls under the whole 'top secret' part." McCoy shot him a look of disdain that wasn't in the least bit personal. They'd all learned that while the doctor was an irritable grouch on the best of days, when his captain was in danger, his behavior was downright antagonistic. Ironically, no one suffered more from the sharp lash of his tongue than Kirk himself.

Not that it made the slightest difference to his behavior, and so the crew tolerated McCoy's bad tempers graciously. It they had to keep James T. Kirk from splatting at the bottom of the cliffs he repeatedly threw himself off, they'd all be pretty testy as well.

"Commander." Uhura had left the conversation develop without input, her ear turned towards the vast emptiness of space around them. "Sir, incoming Starfleet communications suggest that scans of _The Maria's_ last known location are reporting zero life signs."

"They made the jump to warp, then?" Chekov suggested hesitantly. No one seemed to want to consider the possibility that all aboard _The Maria_ had been executed, their captain among them.

"That is one possibility, yes." No one would ever have thought Spock capable of pulling his punches, literally or figuratively, yet he did not say what they were all thinking. To do so might have been illogical. "Lieutenant Uhura, bring up _The Maria's_ itinerary. I would like to know their point of origin."

"Aye sir."

* * *

><p>"So, do you have a name, or should I just guess?" Jim angled his head to look at the beefy looking man dragging him down the empty hallway. "Bob? No. Dave. You look like a Dave."<p>

"Shut the fuck up."

"An unusual name. Hi, nice to meet you."

Dave looked across to his partner, who Jim decided would be Bob after all. "Did we hit this one too hard?"

"Not hard enough, maybe." Bob scowled down at Jim, who returned the look with his best, beaming smile. Given the amount of blood in his mouth, he probably looked like a deranged little psychopath, but he'd pulled a seduction off with less.

"I don't know, you did a damn fine job from where I'm standing. Extra points for enthusiasm."

Bob and Dave clearly didn't know what the hell to make of Jim. It probably wasn't often that their punch bags flirted with them.

Jim lived for nothing if not to defy expectation.

They reached the end of the corridor, and turned to the turbo lift. The doors slid closed, and Jim lashed out.

Elbow to Bob's jaw, knee to Dave's groin.

It was enough to shake them loose, and then he fought dirty.

A thumb in Bob's eyesocket before ramming the palm of his hand into his throat. Bob went down with a gargled choke.

Dave was luckier. He swung out and sent Jim headfirst into the side of the lift.

Stars flashed before his eyes. The last of too many blows to the head.

"Fuck." Jim groaned, feeling his knees sag as his vision blurred around the edges.

This would be where the game was up, but Jim had never known when to quit, and he wasn't about to start now.

Swinging his legs out, he caught Dave in the knee, and on the rebound, slammed the heel of the same foot into his face.

There now. Jim wasn't the only one with a broken nose.

Dave went down with a satisfying thud, and as Jim slumped panting against the wall, he surveyed the damage around him.

The corridor was still empty, save for the two fallen bodies at his feet. No one would mind the blood, but he'd need to secure Bob and Dave before making any further moves.

Wondering if he would ever catch a break, Jim pushed himself back to his feet.


End file.
